A friend asked if I would write a "listing of amazing things to think about...things that are as St. Paul says, true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent or praiseworthy. Anything that would fit into the above category would be greatly appreciated." This was the list that I wrote. I normally like to intersperse my "cheap" blogs, lots of white space and little writing, with solid blogs. But here it is.
A listing of amazing things:
that moment when the challenge is the closest to you, and you do not give in.
the speed of a hummingbird’s wings as it hovers in the air.
long morning shadows reaching across a road.
God’s laughter at our wonder.
the songs of birds at three in the morning when we can only know the sun is coming by faith in His faithfulness for the darkness still remains, yet they sing.
catching a child’s eye and making them smile.
when the wind brushes our cheek in the heat of the day, reminding us that we cannot see where the Spirit comes from or where it is going.
the orchestra of our actions in harmony with God’s.
when one soul silently bows to the wishes of another without the slightest outward hint of the internal sacrifice.
diving into blue water on a hot day.
knowing that we rest in between His shoulders, next to His heart.
moments when we see that God knows and does not forget all the pain.
hearing a street musician play the most beautiful music in the world
(like this…http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F0KmQQbc4Z4&feature=related. Or this…http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qhwQSvs4uWU&feature=related).
the unashamed, undiluted joy of a child when he does something well.
lying down on a bed after a full day of work with your hands.
the view of the universe through a telescope as we watch every star, named by Him, dance the dance He created for them and we see that He is unlimited in His works
(search “star systems and galaxies” in Google pictures).
the music of rain lulling you to sleep at night.
the angels of the Most High standing guard over you as you rest and the song of His love over you in the night.
His hand in the accidental meeting which turn into grand friendship.
realizing that His love is greater than all these things.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
Polaroid pictures
Last week, I received some Polaroid film in the mail. This week, I’ve been taking pictures.
I’m sitting here watching a game of chess. I’m outside, in the shade, and the wind is blowing gently.
This morning, I went to the pasar. You would call it a traditional market, but it’s hard for me to think of the English name in my mind.
As I was walking there with Mikaela, the morning sun was rising but still low, casting the long, cool shadows across the road to provide relief from the warmth. It feels the same here.
The sun doesn’t change on the other side of the world. The freshness of the early morning is still the same. The sweet song of birds welcoming the sun still brings the same joy to my heart. The cool, quietness of the morning still causes me to rejoice in my God, bringing words of praise to mind. These things stay the same.
I am out taking Polaroid pictures and I come to a red dirt field. Boys are playing soccer on it, and in the background the sun is setting against the hills behind, full of houses and mosques and life. The boys are full of life, their spirits strong.
I come back to my friends and they are still playing chess. They offer me a drink, persistent in their hospitality. The sun is almost down now, my favorite time of day. Life feels good, in this moment it is beautiful.
Sometimes I forget that I’m white. Then I see my reflection. Sometimes I forget that I’m in Asia. When I look at a car on the road, sometimes I expect the driver to be white, but they never are. White people don’t leave the malls and accepted white people spots. Except for us. We go everywhere.
Last night, I went to my new favorite place with my friends. You sit on the ground, on carpets around low tables. There’s a candle on the table, and lights wrapped around the trunks of the palm trees. There’s always live music, a man with a guitar or sometimes a few people playing. The food is cheap. When I eat there, I feel like I’m a part of the life here.
One morning, on the bus, I asked a lady for help with my homework. The next morning, I got on a bus and sat down. Then I realized that I was sitting next to the same lady again. We said hello.
The old man in front of us was delighted that I could say a few words. Soon, I will say more.
Tomorrow, maybe the sun will be fierce again or maybe the rain will bring the cool winds. Either way, we will live, and rejoice, and life will continue.
You accept life here. What you can have, you take. What you can’t have, you do without. Life is slow, friendships are strong, and God loves us all with a love bigger than the ocean surrounding this little piece of earth where He longs to bring a piece of heaven.
I’m sitting here watching a game of chess. I’m outside, in the shade, and the wind is blowing gently.
This morning, I went to the pasar. You would call it a traditional market, but it’s hard for me to think of the English name in my mind.
As I was walking there with Mikaela, the morning sun was rising but still low, casting the long, cool shadows across the road to provide relief from the warmth. It feels the same here.
The sun doesn’t change on the other side of the world. The freshness of the early morning is still the same. The sweet song of birds welcoming the sun still brings the same joy to my heart. The cool, quietness of the morning still causes me to rejoice in my God, bringing words of praise to mind. These things stay the same.
I am out taking Polaroid pictures and I come to a red dirt field. Boys are playing soccer on it, and in the background the sun is setting against the hills behind, full of houses and mosques and life. The boys are full of life, their spirits strong.
I come back to my friends and they are still playing chess. They offer me a drink, persistent in their hospitality. The sun is almost down now, my favorite time of day. Life feels good, in this moment it is beautiful.
Sometimes I forget that I’m white. Then I see my reflection. Sometimes I forget that I’m in Asia. When I look at a car on the road, sometimes I expect the driver to be white, but they never are. White people don’t leave the malls and accepted white people spots. Except for us. We go everywhere.
Last night, I went to my new favorite place with my friends. You sit on the ground, on carpets around low tables. There’s a candle on the table, and lights wrapped around the trunks of the palm trees. There’s always live music, a man with a guitar or sometimes a few people playing. The food is cheap. When I eat there, I feel like I’m a part of the life here.
One morning, on the bus, I asked a lady for help with my homework. The next morning, I got on a bus and sat down. Then I realized that I was sitting next to the same lady again. We said hello.
The old man in front of us was delighted that I could say a few words. Soon, I will say more.
Tomorrow, maybe the sun will be fierce again or maybe the rain will bring the cool winds. Either way, we will live, and rejoice, and life will continue.
You accept life here. What you can have, you take. What you can’t have, you do without. Life is slow, friendships are strong, and God loves us all with a love bigger than the ocean surrounding this little piece of earth where He longs to bring a piece of heaven.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Past My Walls, Into My Heart
The past couple weeks, God has been pushing past the boundaries and the walls that I have built in my heart once again. Once again, He is stretching me, pulling me, taking me further than is comfortable now so that I can be in a place that is where I can see His heart. So that I can have the joy and peace and overwhelming delight of being with Him where He is and of doing what He is doing.
Last week, I spent the week in the home of orang-orang Indonesia (people of Indonesia). We were on a small island, in a house built on stilts over the turquoise blue ocean. We ate delicious food the entire week (including snails, whole little crunchy fish, and fried bugs). And we lived like Indonesians, even wearing jilbabs once for a party. It was difficult for us at times, one being from another culture and unfamiliar, two being a important guest in their eyes, three being in the home of a stranger and not speaking the language very well. We did learn a whole lot of new words…I wrote down over 200 in my notebook. We went jalan-jalan on motorcycles all over the island. One night, we went to the Jimbatan Cinta (a beautiful bridge) and sat there with the three college aged kids of the couple we were with. We talked about life, learned new words, and translated English songs into Indonesian until late in the night. I went to the market and bartered for some beautiful batik fabric. I was sick for a few days and got to experience a traditional Indonesian remedy to colds. The Ibu (the mother) rubbed eucalyptus oil into my back then took a coin and made long scratches down my back and neck. This is because bad wind, “Masuk angin,” enters your body, so making scratched lets it out. The red went away after a couple days…I don’t think it helped my skin infection much though ha. I was surrounded by children every day, beautiful vibrant children who taught us the words for every part of the face and took us swimming.
The first days were incredible (the whole time was incredible), but the further into the week I got, the more I was stretched and the more uncomfortable it got. But God was using it to soften and tenderize my spirit. He is changing me so that I may be in closer communion with Him, so that I made hear His whispers with greater clarity. I want to learn how to live in communion with Him at all times. I want to be a soft ground for Him to plant the seeds of His love. I want to swim in the deep waters of His Spirit and lead others to it. So may He use my culture shock or any other means He needs to bring me closer to the center of His heart.
“Prayer is living. It is eating and drinking, action and rest, teaching and learning, playing and working. It leads you to see new paths and to hear new melodies in the air.” Henri Nouwen
Last week, I spent the week in the home of orang-orang Indonesia (people of Indonesia). We were on a small island, in a house built on stilts over the turquoise blue ocean. We ate delicious food the entire week (including snails, whole little crunchy fish, and fried bugs). And we lived like Indonesians, even wearing jilbabs once for a party. It was difficult for us at times, one being from another culture and unfamiliar, two being a important guest in their eyes, three being in the home of a stranger and not speaking the language very well. We did learn a whole lot of new words…I wrote down over 200 in my notebook. We went jalan-jalan on motorcycles all over the island. One night, we went to the Jimbatan Cinta (a beautiful bridge) and sat there with the three college aged kids of the couple we were with. We talked about life, learned new words, and translated English songs into Indonesian until late in the night. I went to the market and bartered for some beautiful batik fabric. I was sick for a few days and got to experience a traditional Indonesian remedy to colds. The Ibu (the mother) rubbed eucalyptus oil into my back then took a coin and made long scratches down my back and neck. This is because bad wind, “Masuk angin,” enters your body, so making scratched lets it out. The red went away after a couple days…I don’t think it helped my skin infection much though ha. I was surrounded by children every day, beautiful vibrant children who taught us the words for every part of the face and took us swimming.
The first days were incredible (the whole time was incredible), but the further into the week I got, the more I was stretched and the more uncomfortable it got. But God was using it to soften and tenderize my spirit. He is changing me so that I may be in closer communion with Him, so that I made hear His whispers with greater clarity. I want to learn how to live in communion with Him at all times. I want to be a soft ground for Him to plant the seeds of His love. I want to swim in the deep waters of His Spirit and lead others to it. So may He use my culture shock or any other means He needs to bring me closer to the center of His heart.
“Prayer is living. It is eating and drinking, action and rest, teaching and learning, playing and working. It leads you to see new paths and to hear new melodies in the air.” Henri Nouwen
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